American Girl
by downbythebay
Summary: MIRACLE Fic. Faye Darling has been working with Coach Brooks since she graduated, and now she's tagging along with Team USA hockey, as well as a few skeletons in her closet. Rating will go up for nongraphic goalie loving What's this? AN UPDATE!
1. One

**A/N: **Hey everyone, hopefully a lot of you have read my other two stories. This one's headed in a darker...more physical direction, I believe. I'd like to think that my stories aren't ofyour typical bubbly love-struck breed, but if they are, I can say I at least tried to make them as literary as I could. Apparently my English teacher thinks I need work...BUT I'D RATHER HEAR WHAT YA'LL HAVE TO SAY! So please read and review. Oh, and if you haven't read my other stories, I highly recommend them, I enjoyed them thoroughly.

* * *

One

My name is Faye Darling, I'm twenty-one years old, I have honey-blond hair about to my waist, and dark green eyes. People always tell me that I have a great smile, and that I smile a lot. I'm not sure why— my teeth aren't pearly white like you see all the movie stars have, and there's a slight space between my two front teeth. And I have this funny thing going on with my canines; they're shorter and sharper than on most people I notice, especially the bottom ones. I don't think I smile too much, but there are times I catch myself when my cheeks start hurting. My skin's nice I guess, alabaster was the word my friend Steve Janaszak used one time. That's a two-dollar word right there.

I work at the University of Minnesota—as a secretary in the athletic office. You see, growing up my mother lived next door to Patti Brooks. Well—she wasn't Patti Brooks back then. Even though they were four or five years apart they became really good friends. I don't exactly have the ideal family situation, but when I got to spend time with Aunt Patti and Uncle Herb, I felt a little more normal. I grew up with them, I baby sat for Kelly and Danny, and Herb even helped me get this job after I graduated from the U last year.

When I was a student I always had guys coming up to me and asking if Coach was really my uncle, and what was the best way to get on the hockey team. That's actually how I met Robbie McClanahan. I guess you could say we were friends, but we weren't too close, and we've grown apart since graduation. Well the typical questions lead to a complicated answer of how there's no blood relation but it sure feels like there is. And as for the second question all I can say is: Practice! Practice! Practice!

If you were to ask me, I'd say I love hockey. I go to every game, I enjoy watching practice when I get the chance, I have friends who are hockey players, and I handle a lot of the paperwork for Coach Brooks, but the truth is I don't understand a whole lot about it. I don't sit up late at night, reading a play book by flashlight, I don't know a lot about the NHL, and the great players. I don't dream of one day disguising myself as a man and trying out for a team. It's a good thing too, I don't think I could pull that off; I've got some pretty generous curves. The simple truth is, I just like hockey.

It was four o'clock on Friday afternoon, so Uncle Herb was coming into the athletic office as I was getting ready to head out.

"Any calls for me?" He asked, as he hung his jacket up on the coat rack by the door. I grabbed the note I had made off the desk.

"Just one from Walter Bush," I explained. "He said something about the USOC, and to call him back as soon as you got in."

"Okay," Uncle Herb said. He looked real thoughtful for a moment before, "Do you talk with Buzzy anymore?" He was talking about hockey playing alumni, Buzz Schneider. He was a senior when I was a freshman, but he was one of, if not the best friends I've ever had. I nodded.

"Yea," I said. "He actually stopped by last week to check up on me." Herb nodded. "Made sure I was still perfect." He sat down at his desk and looked through some papers for a few minutes. These kinds of conversations are always awkward for me. It's like talking to a friend's parent...or a parent's friend. You don't know what to say, but you know you don't want to say anything stupid.

"Are you coming to the party on Saturday night," he asked as I started to pack up. I nodded. "Got your costume all picked out?"

"I can't wait," I said. "I'm coming as Alice in Wonderland."

"I'll see you there then," he told me. "Have a good night, Faye." I waved back to him and made my way out of the athletics building into the sunlight.

_**OOO**_

I showed up at the costume party on Saturday night around seven. Patti kept telling me she liked my costume. I left the party around nine. I don't really like staying out late, but the following Monday, Herb came in a little earlier in the afternoon.

"Hi Coach!" I greeted him cheerfully.

"Hey there, Faye," he began. "I got a call from the USOC over the weekend. They want me to coach the Olympic ice hockey team. Starting in two weeks."

"Oh wow," I began in surprise. "That's great." I paused. "But who's going to be coaching here?"

"You don't need to be worrying about that just yet," he told me. "Because I was wondering if you might like a job helping to manage the team." At that point I couldn't help but squeal in delight.

"Yes, yes, yes!" I replied, jumping up eagerly.

"Now before you go getting all excited," Uncle Herb warned. "It's going to mean some long hours, and a lot of travel. You're going to be away from home a lot. You still want the job?" That was supposed to be his idea of a catch.

"Yes," I answered firmly.

"We're going to need to get you a passport," he told me. "Maybe you and Patti should pick a day to go out." I nodded.

I Called Patti that afternoon and we decided to go to the mall on Wednesday afternoon for some food and to get my passport picture taken at Sears, and maybe get some shopping for a European winter done. It seemed like things were really starting to look up for me.


	2. Two

**A/N:** Hey everyone. Just so you know I'm trying to make this story and interesting blend of the movie, true events, real history, good country music, and outtakes, with a little bit of my own creative license. Like I said in the summary the rating will go up in later chapters, just to be safe. I promise nothing too graphic.

To explain some confusion about the end of the last chapter: Herb knows that he has the job, and he's hiring Faye, because I said so, and if he didn't it'd be a pretty boring story.

* * *

Two

It was the middle of June and these hockey players were pouring into the ice rink in Colorado Springs in shorts and t-shirts with loads of gear weighing them down. Ha, ice hockey in June, who would have thought. Herb asked me to help checking the guys in because I was just so friendly. I was at a table in the lobby with three other women taking names and handing out numbers. It didn't take me long to find exactly who I was hoping to see, or rather he found me.

"Faye, Darling!" I heard a friendly voice call through the crowd. I knew who it was right away; only one person could ever get away with separating my first and last names like that.

"Buzzy!" I laughed as he pushed through the crowd to get to my table. "Hey."

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"Coach asked me if I could give him a hand with managing the team," I answered.

"And you said yes?" He mused.

"And miss out on an opportunity like this?" I reminded him, "Spending time with my best buddy from the U!" Buzz smiled back at me. "Here's your number," I offered. "Now you better get in line to have your picture taken, and then go see the equipment manager back by the lockers. Good luck Buzz!"

"Thanks," he answered, giving me a thumb's up as he walked away. "_Next!_" I called out. A much taller guy approached me and dropped his stuff next to the table.

"Mike Eruzione, Boston University," he explained. _Mike Eruzione_. That was a name I had heard Buzz mention once or twice. I flipped through my roster to check his name off.

"Number, picture, lockers," I explained pointing to each station. "Good luck, Mike."

"You too," he answered gathering his things. My eyebrows knitted together.

"What?" I asked in confusion. He looked back at me, realizing what he had done.

"I mean 'thank you'," he corrected himself before moving on.

"Jannie," I called out, waving over to another friend from the U. "Long time no see," I said playfully.

"Oh my God!" He continued sarcastically. "There was a three week period when I thought I'd never see you again!"

"Here's your number," I told him. Of all the crazy things I've ever seen these players do, I was not expecting him to jump over the table and scoop me up into his arms and try to eat my face. He slobbered all over cheek, to tickle me with his mustache, because he knew well and good that I hated it. I was shrieking and giggling until he set me back down, but it was so crowded and noisy that nobody noticed.

"Get outta here," I ordered, jerking my thumb in the direction of the photographer. I watched him head over, and I knew he was watching me in the corner of his eye as the photographer asked his name. I stuck my tongue out at him to get him to smile, and he burst out laughing as the flash went off. He shot me a look as I went on with what I was doing.

* * *

Once everyone was checked in, I decided to go watch a little bit of the tryouts. I crept quietly into the rink, pulling my light jacket up over my shoulders as I made my way down the stands to sit a few rows behind the advisory staff.

I watched one of the goalies closely. He looked like some serious competition for Jannie, and I couldn't help but feel a little nervous. I took a moment to remind myself that Herb was going to choose the players that he was going to choose, and not necessarily all my friends. Actually, it wasn't even that this guy was making more saves then Jannie would have, it's just that the way he did it was so fluid and natural, you couldn't help but notice this kid in goal. He had something on his mask. I couldn't help but smile excitedly when I realized they were little shamrock stickers.

After the scrimmage, one of the boys crouched down in a shoot the duck position, skating backwards, holding his hockey stick like a rifle. I laughed, that must have taken some serious coordination. I know I had a hard enough time moving in a forward direction in the upright position on skates.

I got up after a few more minutes and decided to go see Uncle Herb and start going through some of the boys' paperwork. I found him with Coach Patrick up stairs. They booth greeted me warmly before I grabbed a stack of papers and sat down.

"What's this?" I heard Coach Patrick ask as Herb handed him a sheet of paper.

"Twenty-six names," Herb answered. "The tough part's going to be getting it down to twenty before opening ceremony."

"This is the final roster," Craig started up. "You're kidding me, right? This is our first day, Herb. I mean we've got a week of this. What about the advisory staff? Aren't they supposed to have a say in this?"

"Technically, I guess," Herb answered. "I don't know."

"You're missing some of the best players." Craig protested.

"I'm not looking for the best players, Craig, I'm looking for the right ones," Herb answered.

"You've Jim Craig to back up Steve Janaszak?" Coach Patrick asked.

"Which one is Craig?" I asked curiously. Herb pointed across the ice to shamrock boy before turning back to Coach Patrick

"Other way around."

"What?" I asked surprise. It looked like Coach Patrick shared my confusion.

"Other way around," he asked. "I'm sorry; didn't Janaszak just win you a Junior National Championship?"

"Jannie is solid goal keeper," Uncle Herb agreed. "But we're not playing for the Junior National Championship."

"You know people I've talked to say Craig's game had been off since his mom died." Coach Patrick said. I grimaced slightly, knowing all to well what the loss of a parent can do to you.

"Did they ever see him when his game was on?"

* * *

I stood at the top of the stairs as Coach Patrick read off the list of names Herb had given him:

"Hughes. Ross. Auge. Delich. Horsch. Strobel. Christoff. Morrow. Suter. Ramsey. Janaszak. Christian. Pavelich. Verchota. Baker. Harrington. Schneider." I couldn't help but smiling to myself knowing that I'd hopefully be spending the next seven month with one of my best friends. "O'Callahan. McClanahan," another smile.

"Silk. Johnson. Craig. Cox. Eruzione," Craig finished. "And that's the roster for now, the rest of you guys, thanks for coming out." A large group of the boys got up to leave as the rest congratulated their fellow teammates.

I was very surprised to see Timmy Harrer among the boys leaving, but I was also a little relieved. He wasn't a bad guy, he was one helluva hockey player for sure, but I didn't like him. He asked me out one time, and I said no—I don't date. He wasn't very polite about the rejection. It was pretty cute watching Jannie hold Buzz back thought.

"Take a good look around boys," I jumped hearing Uncle Herb from behind me. All the boys turned to look between us—well there goes my goal of remained inconspicuous. "Cause they're the one's getting off easy. We're putting a few of you on reserve, in case someone gets injured or their game goes to hell. The final roster will have twenty names on it, so more of you are going home. Give ninety-nine percent; you'll make my job very, very easy. I'll be your coach; I won't be your friend, if you need one of those you can talk to Doc or Coach Patrick." I couldn't help but be relieved that he didn't explain my presence as I followed him down the stairs.

"Congratulations," I heard Coach Patrick speaking as we made our way out to the parking lot. "Before you go pick up one of these. You've got a little homework to do...before you celebrate." I smiled craftily remembering the lengthy psychology test Uncle Herb had shown me earlier.

I had climbed into the car and shut my door when Walter Bush came running out of the building.

"Herb!" He called. "Herb, hold on a minute."

"Hey Walter, how we doing?" Uncle Herb asked.

"I think we got a problem here Herb," Walter went on. "I've got a room full of people up there who want a say in this and you've already picked the team." Uncle Herb shut the door, shutting off the sound of their voices.

I frowned to myself, as I watched them carrying on. Walter looked pissed. It went on for a few minutes, but in the end it looked like Herb had won. He got back in the car, looking a little flustered, and we drove back to the hotel.


	3. Three

**A/N:** The part of this chapter starting when it switches to third person point of view, indicated by: 3rd person, has the best effect if you read it while listening to _Honky Tonk Badonkadonk_ one of Trace Adkins's new ones. You can find it at the Country Music Television web sight, just search for Trace Adkins on the home page. Click on the Listening Party Trace Adkins: _Songs about Me_ button, and it's the last track. It's got a really good sound to it, but the lyrics make zero sense so I didn't want to right them in the chapter.

Three

I was going through some of the boys' medical papers. I flipped through a packet of Jim Craig's information to find his emergency contact. I was writing them all down on note cards that I could keep in my binder. I turned to the last page and I couldn't stop my eyes from watering when I read what he wrote:

_**Emergency Contact**: Margaret Craig._

_**Relation to Player**: Mother._

He had filled out all her information and I felt rotten when I realized I'd have to go ask him about it. Buzz had swung by earlier, with a bunch of the guys to invite me down to the pool, but I didn't think Jimmy was with him.

I grabbed the papers and headed down the hall to Jimmy's room. I knocked on the door and waited. He answered it a moment later and I could hear music playing in the background.

"Hi," he started, looking a little confused. I figured I should introduce myself.

"Hey there Jimmy," I began. "My name's Faye. Darling. I'm working with the hockey team. I need your emergency contact information." His eyebrows came together.

"I didn't fill that out," he pondered, grabbing the papers from me. He looked at the page and realized what he had done. He looked at me and I offered him a sympathetic smile.

"You want to come in a minute?" He asked me politely, "I just need a pen." I entered the room and shut the door as he hunted around for a pen. The first thing I noticed was that even though he had only been in the room a few hours it was a mess, and it smelled kinda funny. "You can have a seat on the bed," he suggested as he started writing on the paper. I plopped down, trying not to think about all the unpleasant thing men do on their beds.

"There you are," he offered me the paper, sniffing loudly, and I could tell that he was on is way to tears.

"You know Jimmy, if you ever need someone to talk to," I told him. "My door's always open."

"You know, everybody says that," he started in frustration.

"I understand what you're going through," I said gently. "And if you ever need anything, just let me know, okay?"

"Do you?" He asked, and I could tell he was starting to get sick of me. "Understand what I'm going through?" I sighed.

"I'll see you around, Jimmy," I said and walked out.

_**OOOOO**_

A few hours later I was sitting in my room and there was a knock on the door. I got up from my paperwork to answer it. It was Mac...and some other guy.

"Hey Faye," he said.

"Mac," I answered a little less enthusiastically.

"Have you met Mark Johnson?" He asked, introducing his companion. I shook my head.

"Hi, Mark," I started, taking his hand.

"Look, a bunch of us are going out tonight," Mac asked me. "You want to come?"

"I've got a lot of paperwork I need to get ready," I told them. "I don't think I should."

"Come on," Mac begged. "You can do that later. Let's go have some fun!"

"I can't," I went on protesting.

"Please! Please, please, please, please, please," He gave me these big puppy dog eyes and started pulling on my arm.

"Let me get my stuff," I ordered, pulling away. I went over to my desk chair to get my purse, and my jean jacket with the warm faux-wool lining. I pulled it on over my pink sweater, and faded blue jeans and was out the door.

The bar was just down the block, so we walked. As soon as we entered I could smell the smoke coming from the bar, so I tried to hold my breath. Needless to say, that didn't last long. A lot of the hockey players had come here to hang out. I could see they were clearly divided. The Minnesotans were at one table, and the Bostonians a safe distance away at another.

"Hey Rizzo," Mac called over to the guys at the Boston table. 'Dumb ass,' I thought to myself.

"Mac," I heard Mike Eruzione reply. Mac waved at them, and then wrapped his arm around my waist. I **freaked out**. I pulled away from him and pushed on his chest.

"What was _that_?" I demanded in the high-pitched voice I get when I'm mad. The Boston table was cracking up. Mac was notorious for pulling that kind of stunt.

"Hey, hey, hey," Buzz was quick to jump up and consol me. "Come on, have a seat, I'll get you a drink, what do you want?" I pulled my jacket off as I scrunched my nose up thoughtfully.

"A house on the hill, with one of those little plastic swords," I said. "So I can poke Mac with it." Buzzy went over to the bar like a good boy, and returned a moment later with my drink—complete with a lemon speared with a little pink sword. I ate the inside of the lemon, and took my little rapier and jabbed at Mac's arm.

"Ouch," he yelped, putting a hand over his arm. "Hey, when that jets infected and they have to amputate my arm and Herb cuts me from the team and I never play hockey again, I'm blaming you," he warned me.

"It's in alcohol, it's sterile," I reminded him, and took a sip of my drink. It made my lips tingle, a citrus-y drink with sprite, lemon juice, and vodka mixed together with chunks of mashed pineapple floating around in it.

"You're an angel," I told Buzz. "Want a sip." He shook his head,

"I can't drink those," he stated, "Acid reflux."

"And so young," I said, sighing dramatically.

"He doesn't have it," Phil Verchota informed me. "He's afraid of getting it." I laughed.

"Who wants to play pool?" I asked, noticing the vacant table. No takers, no wonder, I was a pretty decent pool player. "Come on," I urged. "Buzzy? Jannie...Phil?" I nodded "_seductively_" at him, he shook his head, and I frowned.

"I'm game," Mac offered with a sigh and got up.

"Thank you," I replied strongly patting his shoulder. "Thank you. You," I pointed at Buzzy. "Go see if there's any Bruce Springsteen in that juke box for me. And if there's not, go see the management." I grabbed my drink, and headed over to the pool table with Mac, on the way there the barrette I had pulled my hair up into a perverted French roll with started to pull my hair, so I took it out and shook my hair loose.

Long hair can be such a you-know-what, but I never have time to go to get it cut. A girl in my dorm offered to cut it for me once. She better be thanking God every day that my hair grows fast.

**_3rd person_**

O.C. watched broodingly from the table as Mac got up with the short blond girl he had arrived with. She pulled her hair down and shook her head as they made their way over to the pool table. She went into her pocket for some change to put into the pool table.

"Oh man," Silky's voice brought him out of his slight daze. Jack looked to his friend and found his mouth was practically watering as he watched Mac's mystery date bend over the pool table to break. "That's not right." Jack snorted.

"What?" Silky went on, noticing the table staring at him. "She's got a nice—"

"Hey!" Rizzo cut him off. Jack rolled his eyes. Typical Rizzo. Defender of the honor of every woman who ever found herself the object of his friends' brief affections.

"You know if she's hanging out with McClanahan she probably wouldn't mind," O.C. observed.

"I love you Buzzy!" She yelled as _Born to Run_ started to play. She started dancing with her pool stick as Mac missed another shot.

"She's got good taste," Rizzo noted absently. The table stared wide-eyed.

"In music," he added nervously.

"Sure she does, Rizzo," O.C. teased.

**_1st person_**

When I hear Bruce Springsteen it's like Pavlov's dogs, I don't even think, I just start dancing. Mac missed so it was my turn again. After a quick survey of the pool table I hopped up onto the edge and held my pool stick behind me.

Mac makes quite the set up. The cue ball and a green striped ball were right in line with the corner pocket. Of course I don't know too many women who would willingly put themselves in this position, but after a few more drinks the only thing I'd remember was that I'd won the game.

There was a loud clack as ball fourteen fell into the pocket as the cue ball veered off to the side. I smiled at Mac and hopped down.

Half an hour later only six, seven, three, and eight were left; all solids, and it was my turn. This seriously worked for me, because I was in dire need of another drink and I was ready to wrap this one up.

"Want me to call it?" I asked as I leaned over.

"Sure why not," Mac shot playfully. "You know what you're doing."

"Eight ball, side pocket," I said, getting a look from Mac, because it probably would have been easier to hit it in the corner pocket in the mood to show off. Another clack as the eight ball fell into its proper place.

"I win," I declared. "I'm going to go to the bar for a while," I told Mac and headed over with my empty glass.

"Don't get yourself in too much trouble," he warned. I laughed as I went off, even if there was a hint of seriousness in is voice.

I found a seat at the bar, and after a few shots of Jim Beam whiskey I pulled a cigarette out of my pocket and lit it up. I pride myself on the fact that I have, quite possibly, the world's coolest lighter. It's about as long as the palm of my hand and an inch wide. The flint wheel doesn't hurt my thumb and it makes a really cool sound when I flick it open. It has a gold finish with 'Faye' engraved on one side in cursive letters, and a butterfly design on the other. It's also going to last me forever, because I usually won't strike it more than once or twice a day. I don't smoke often but when I do I smoke a lot.

I chain smoke. I'll smoke ten cigarettes one right after another. It usually adds up to almost a pack a day. My mom still smokes more than me though. It's an expensive habit to keep up. Don't ever start smoking. I've gotten complaints from the boys, and I've tried to quit, but quitting smoking is like extreme PMS, which I'm not too fond of either.

I ordered another shot and finally the bar tender gave up on my poor drunken soul and left the bottle. Did I mention I have this little drinking problem? I don't know for sure, but I have a sneaky suspicion that I come from a long line of alcoholics, so I'm predisposed to hitting the bottle a little too hard. I don't drink beer too much any more; it doesn't do too much for me.

My cigarette was starting to die so I went ahead and pulled out another one and held to the burning end of the one in my mouth until it lit. I put out the first and went nursing the second one.

"Chain smoker," a man behind me observed. "There's something mouth-wateringly dirty about that."

"Hit the road Jack," I warned without turning around, pouring myself another drink as I blew a pull of smoke from the corner of my mouth.

"I guess that means I don't need an introduction," he answered, dauntlessly taking the seat next to me. I looked over at him.

"Jack O'Callahan," I started, cocking an eyebrow at him. I usually don't remember the names of the athletes on the teams the Gophers play, but it's hard to forget a spat like Mac and O.C. had back in '76.

"Now this isn't very fair," he noted. "You already know my name, but I don't know yours." I rolled my eyes and turned my head in the other direction as I downed another shot. Not drunk yet, but getting there.

O.C. picked my lighter up off the bar and began examining it. And if he didn't put it down in about thirty seconds I was ready to deck him. Even if I wasn't quite sure what that would accomplish.

"Faye is it?" He asked, setting my lighter down. Wise choice my friend. "Faye what?"

"Darling," I said. He smiled a smile that would have been charismatic, if only it hadn't been so damn cocky.

"It's a little early for pillow talk don't you think?" He asked.

"No Jackass, that's my name," I spat at him. Time for another shot, it burned my throat on the way down, but I didn't mind—it was a welcome distraction from Jack.

"Hey," he started with a tone of mock-injury. "It's not nice to make fun of my name. You don't see me making fun of your name do you?"

"You just did," I reminded, my patience growing thin. He looked a little fazed for a moment, but he wasn't giving up.

"Well, Faye Darling," he began. "The question of the day is, 'What is with you and McClanahan?' Is he your boyfriend or something?" I snorted quietly.

"No," I shot back at O.C. "He just likes to pretend he is." I hate to admit it, but he had me pretty figured out by now. Don't you hate it when men do that?

"So what is it?" He asked.

"I'm working with the team," I answered, turning back to him finally. "Coach Brooks asked me to help with the paper work and travel arrangements for him."

"What's tat mean?" O.C. asked curiously.

That means that I am going to be the one calling your mom back in Charlestown if we ever have to take your butt to the hospital," I told him, thankful that I had gone through his papers before Mac had abducted me.

"Good to know you're here," he said sarcastically. "Come on; come meet some of the other guys." I followed him over to the Boston table.

"Hey guys," he started. "This is Faye Darling. She's going to be working with the team. Faye, that's Ralph Cox, Dave Silk, and Mike Eruzione."

"Hi!" I started, they waved to me and I took a seat next to Cox.

"So you and Mac and Buzz over there are like an item?" Silk asked, looking extremely confused. I shook my head.

"No," I stated simply. "No, we're just friends."

"You looked like you were about ready to tear Mac a new one back there," Cox added. The boys and I laughed a little.

"No," I said. "He was just playing with me. I haven't seen him in a while. He's really a good guy." O.C. rolled his eyes.

"I don't know how you people can stand be in the same room as that clown," O.C. shot started up.

"Let it go, it's over," Mike urged. "Let it go."

"You had to go on complimenting Mac, didn't you?" Silk shot.

"What's going on here," Ralph questioned.

"O.C.'s got a little unfinished business over there," Dave replied.

"Not for long I don't," Jack shot back.

"Hey. What I tell you, man," Rizzo started; then mouthed: "Let it go."

"McClanahan," Cox started. "You're not still going on about the '76 play offs are you?"

"Let me ask you something Coxie," O.C. started. "Why'd you want to play college hockey."

"Well I thought it was for the girls," Cox said. "But the fact that Silky's been playing footsies with me for the past five minutes kinda makes me want to rethink that." We all laughed.

"I'm serious Coxie," Jack demanded. "Why'd you want to play college hockey?"

"Because I love to play hockey," he answered. "I wanted to go to the NHL, just like everybody does."

"Well I wanted to win a National Championship," O.C. shot. "And that pansy over there cheap shots me; I get knocked out of the game. He steals the ring right off my finger. How would you feel?" I was feeling a little awkward, knowing that nothing I said would ever change his mind.

"Everyone was throwing cheap shots that night," Rizzo started up.

"You know it's funny that you say that Rizzo," Jack snapped. "Because I was just wondering whose side you were on."

"I'm on your side," Rizzo insisted.

"You know it really seems that way," O.C. shot. "I'm not doing this now. I'm out of here."

"Where you going?" Rizzo called after him as he got up.

"To my room," Jack shot back. "Is that okay with you, Mother?" Now in the few hours that I had known Rizzo he had been great to me, so that just didn't seem right.

"Jezz, no wonder the guy gets so many penalty minutes, right," Ralph started trying to break the nervous tension.

"Some time he gets a little carried away," Silk added, he looked over to me. "Sorry about that." I waved him off. The truth is I was starting to feel buzzed.

"You okay?" Rizzo asked me. "You look real pale."

"Yea, I'm fine," I answered easily.

"Your lips are pale," he warned. I shrugged.

"You know what," I said finally. "I need to dance, Silk, let's go. Cox; get me another drink...something that burns. Rizzo, stay here 'cause after I'm done with him, I'm dancing with you."

"I don't dance," he protested.

"You will," I said as Dave pulled me out to the dance floor.

_**OOOOO**_

Silky was a really good dancer, but Rizzo was not kidding. He had zero rhythm, but that's okay. I was drunk. I wasn't going to remember this tomorrow. And he was nice. At the end of the night he even offered to walk with me back to the hotel, even if all the guys were sort of migrating together.. I was trying to balance on the curb, and failing miserably. Every time I took a misstep and started to fall he grabbed me and set me back on my feet.

We took the elevator up to the second floor of the hotel.

"Goodnight guys," I bid him when I got to my room

"'Night," they all answered me, heading off in different directions.


	4. Four

**A/N: **Hi everyone! Welcome back. Remember to be a friend and hit the little review button.

* * *

Four

I knew my head hurt before I even realized I was awake. I lay with my face down in the pillow for a few minutes before I realized what had woken me up. Someone was banging furiously on my door. I groaned loudly, struggling out from under the covers and then to my feet. I could feel my head spinning from the effort and I stumbled backwards and landed back down in bed. I looked at the clock, reading 4:06 AM. I groaned.

"You've got to be kidding me," I whined. The person at the door was relentless. "I'm coming!" I yelled. Bad choice, my head was throbbing. I pulled myself to my feet and crossed the room to the door.

"Herb," I started up in surprise, opening the door in my Goofy boxers and a white t-shirt.

"What are you doing?" He demanded without missing a beat. "We have a flight back to St. Paul in half an hour."

"Oh, come on," I moaned, rolling my eyes.

"What are you waiting for?" He demanded. "Hurry up, we've got to go!" I ran back into my room, grabbed a wrinkled sweat suite out of my duffel bag and threw them on over my p.j.'s; I pulled my hair into a sloppy bun on the crown of my head, and then gathered all my things and headed back out the door.

"Gotta boogey, sweetheart," Uncle Herb instructed, ushering me out to the charter buses that were rented for the team. I felt a little uncomfortable getting on the bus with all those guys. Maybe it was my typical, hung-over wariness of men mixed with a lack of knowledge of what had happened the previous night. Or maybe it was just the fact that I was too lazy to put a bra on this morning.

_**

* * *

**_

I was sitting by myself as the boys started boarding the plane. Buzz and Mac were in the pair of seats in front of me, and Jannie was behind me. I was half asleep when Rizzo plumped down next to me.

"How you feeling?" He asked friendlily.

"Better," I said without opening my eyes. "Need more sleep." He smiled; my God I could actually hear him smiling.

"How much did you drink?" He asked carefully. I looked over and rolled my eyes at him.

"Obviously not enough," I answered. "I was hoping I'd still be drunk."

"You know you might want to take it easy," he warned. I was ready to laugh, this guy had known me for a day—maybe—and already he was telling me the same thing Jannie, Buzz, and Mac had been telling me for years.

"What are you?" I asked, "My mother." He gave me a funny look.

"You don't seem the type to quote Jack O'Callahan," he said.

"Why would I do that?" I asked.

"You just did," he answered.

"I did?" He nodded.

"O.C. said something to that effect last night," he reminded me. I shrugged. "Right before he stormed away angrily."

"I don't recall," I said. He gave me the kind of look you can't really put a name on when you're hung over.

"Get some sleep," he told me before getting up to go sit with Jack.

_**

* * *

**_

After the pilot signaled it was okay to unbuckle your seatbelts and move around the plane, Uncle Herb came over and sat next to me.

"Could you do me a favor, and make up a rooming list for the boys." He asked. "I want all the Minnesota players rooming with Boston players." I nodded, and went to grab a notebook and pen out of my carry on.

"I want you to put Mac and O.C. in a room," he continued. My eyes widened a little, as a looked at him in disbelief.

"I understand where you're coming from, Uncle Herb," I told him. "But that's like mixing bleach and ammonia. I want them to get along too, but I don't want any dead hockey players on our hands either."

"Do you trust me?" He asked.

"Of course I do," I told him. He cut me off.

"Then just trust me on this one." I took a deep breath.

"Alright," I said. "But when someone's suing for wrongful damages, remember this was your idea." He nodded, getting up to sit with Coach Pat.

I took out a team roster and checked the boys off as I put them in rooms. O'Callahan and McClanahan; I grimaced; Robbie was going to kill me for this. Buzz and Rizzo played in the World Championship together, and from the locker room talk I had heard, they both snored. To me that was a match made in heaven. I skimmed down the list and figured it made sense to put Jannie in a room with Jimmy Craig.

_**(3rd person)**_

Jimmy took a seat next to Steve Janaszak on the plane and leaned back in his seat. Then he realized who was sitting just in front of them.

"So do you know that Faye, girl?" He asked curiously. Jannie nodded.

"Yea, we went to school together," he answered. "She's the best." Jimmy raised his eyebrows.

"She came across as a little conceited," Jimmy answered.

"She doesn't have a father you know," Jannie said in his friend's defense.

"A what?" Jim asked.

"A father," he answered. "She doesn't have a father. She usually doesn't trust guys when she first meets them. It took Buzzy, and Mac, and me most of high school to get to know her." Jimmy leaned back in his chair with a sigh,

"Oh, crap."

_**(1st person)**_

We had practice for a few hours the minute we got back to the U. Herb wanted to run some scrimmages, and get the boys used to playing with one another.

I was sitting on the bench, watching Mark Johnson skating around with the puck. He was a great skater, and a great player, but Uncle Herb definitely wasn't liking the way he didn't pass. There was a metallic 'Clink' as Johnson scored, but Herb still didn't look happy.

"Johnson! That coast to coast stuff may work here, but it won't against the teams we'll be playing." Herb warned him, "Next." I watched as the next line headed out onto the ice.

"Morrow let be take this one," I heard O.C. say as he hopped over the boards. I saw the look he was giving Robbie, and I seriously started to regret putting them in the same dorm.

"This is a break out play gentlemen," Uncle Herb reminded them. "So please let's get rid of the puck early." He blew the whistle and the play began.

"Here! Here!" Rob called for the puck, and Jack started to run him down. The sound that followed can only be described as a loud: **_Schmack!_** Kinda like the bag of potatoes we dropped onto the basketball court in physics. Mac was in that class, he thought it was funny. Now I just think he's very sympathetic towards the potatoes.

"Whatcha hitting like that for O.C.," one of the boys asked.

"He didn't even have the puck," another went on.

"That's bush league, OC." Harrington shot.

"Nice hit O.C.," Dave Silk called from the bench. I had to resist the strong urge to go over there and _schmack_ that cocky grin right off Davie's face. I didn't have any strong feelings for Mac, but I had to look out for my Minnesota babies didn't I?

"Tell your boy to keep his head up, next time he won't have to worry about it," Jack warned. I suddenly felt an intense hatred for him bubbling up in me. He was sitting there all hunched over for a few minutes before recovering and going after O'Callahan.

"Come on lets go," he yelled in anger. I watched Coach Pat go to stop them, but Uncle Herb interceded.

"Let them go," he said. I was astounded. I couldn't believe Herb was going to let them carry on like this, but I had put my total faith in him so far, so I was just going to trust him on this.

The boys were getting really into this fight. Some were shouting encouragement, and others were holding back the ones going to break things up. They were all circling in for a better view. Finally Mac went down hard, and O.C. wasn't far behind, and the others pulled them apart.

"Does that look like hockey to you," her Herb asked. "Looks more like a couple of monkeys trying to hump a football to me." Bad joke. Very typical of Herb. Most of the boys weren't sure if they were supposed to fake a laugh or what. They all stayed quiet, and I was a bit relieved. "How bout you Craig?"

"Yea," Coach Patrick agreed.

"Faye?" He asked. I shrugged, a little panicked.

"I don't know," I admitted. "I've never seen a monkey trying to hump a football." The boys laughed, but Herb silenced them with a glare that would have stopped a charging rhino.

"You wanna settle old scores you're on the wrong team! We move forward starting right now! We start becoming a team _right now!_" Herb yelled. "Skating, passing, flow and creativity; that is what this team is all about. Not old rivalries.

"Let's start with some introductions," Herb went on, his previous tone changed completely. "Get to know each other a little bit. You know who you are, where you're from." He pointed over to Mac who was now sporting a very bloody nose.

"Rob McClanahan. Saint Paul, Minnesota," Robbie began, shrugging his shoulders.

"Who do you play for?" Uncle Herb asked.

"For you, here at the U," Mac answered strongly. I don't know why, but I don't think that was the answer Herb wanted.

"And over here?" Herbie asked Jack.

"Jack O'Callahan," he answered proudly. "Charleston, Mass. Boston University."

"And here," Coach pressed again, seeming almost urgent.

"I'm Ralph Cox," Coxie replied. "And I'm from wherever's not gonna get me hit—" The boys laughed and smiled wryly.

"Okay, everybody on the line," Coach went on with practice. After a few rounds of suicides a.k.a. "Herbies" Coach announced that the rooming list would be posted outside the lockers after practice. The guys seemed a little surprised that they were getting assigned rooms. I headed back to my small office to type the list up. I tacked it to the door of the boys' locker room before they all started to file out.

"What the _heck?_" I heard Mac yell. I frowned nervously and figured this would be an opportune moment to sneak away.

"Faye!" I heard someone call me. I turned to find Jimmy sprinting down the hallway; stopping when he finally reached me. "Hey, I just wanted to say I was sorry about the other night—"

"Who told you?" I cut him off, a little agitated that my little family situation was quickly becoming common knowledge.

"Told me what?" He asked, feigning a confused expression.

"You wouldn't be here apologizing to me if you didn't know about my dad," I shot back.

"Jannie told me," he answered. At least we were being honest now.

"What exactly did Jannie tell you?" I asked making a mental note to kick Jannie's ass at the first possible opportunity.

"He said you didn't have a dad," Jimmy explained. "And you don't usually trust men."

"That's bull shit," I told him.

"It is?" He asked, looking very confused.

"Of course I have a father," I said. "He just doesn't love me." And with that I headed out.


	5. Five

**A/N:** This chapter is where I wanted to get the pairing going and give you some more information on Faye's family situation. It also makes a very bad attempt to show why Mac and O.C. got along better after the fight. I'm actually not too crazy about this one. I think it's a little too forward, but I'm not sure of any other way to do it. I don't have a lot of experience writing characters with really tortured pasts. Let me know what you think.

* * *

Five

It was dark by the time I got home. I could see my mom—Jeannie—in the kitchen, standing by the microwave.

"How were try-outs," my mom asked as I came into the kitchen.

"Fine," I answered grabbing a soda out of the icebox and sitting down at the table, pushing stacks of bills and junk mail out of my way.

"Who made the team," my mom went on, sitting across from me with her TV dinner. "Anyone I know?"

"Mike…Ramsey, Mac, Steve Janaszak, and Buzz," I answered.

"My Buzzy?" She asked excitedly. I nodded as she went on. "I love that kid."

"Rammer's the young one," I told her. "Buzzy's not much of a kid."

"What is he seventeen?" My mom asked curiously.

"Twenty-five," I corrected.

"Oh," my mom lit up. "He's legal." I didn't say anything; I just grabbed my soda and headed up to my room.

Actually that was the best conversation I've had with my mom in years.

**OOOOO**

Later that night I started to feel pretty bad about blowing Jimmy off like I had. He was only trying to apologize after all. So finally the guilt got the best of me and I headed out to my car and drove out to the boys' dorms. When I pulled into the parking lot I was very surprised to see Jimmy standing under the carport looking mystified.

"Hey Jim," I called getting out of my car and running over to him. "What are you doing out here? Are you okay?" He nodded.

"Yea," he went on. "I'm fine. I'm fine." I nodded, knowing everything was not fine. Realizing suddenly that I had interrupted him on his way to a breakdown.

"Do you need anything," I asked, hoping there might be something I could do for him. "Or do you want me to come back tomorrow?"

"No you're fine," he said softly. "I just...I really miss her." I touched his arm gently.

"Of course you do," I said comfortingly. But inside my head I was going: '_Holy crap! Our goalie is having a break down! What the hell am I supposed to do? What if he start's crying? Great timing Faye!_'I figured since he was Irish there was a good shot that he was Catholic, or at least of a religious persuasion that believes in an afterlife so I decided to get a little spiritual, something I **never** do.

"She was a great mom, and she loved you," I said. "And it's good that you miss her. And right now I'm sure she's looking down from heaven wishing she could tell you how proud you make her."

"I thought you were mad at me," he noted. I shook my head.

"Let's quit playing guilt tag," I suggested. "I don't want to be mad."

"Me neither," he agreed.

"The truth is Jim," I went on. "I'm actually really jealous of you. I never met my dad. I don't know if he was a nice guy, or a jerk or what. All I know is that he didn't want me. You knew your mother, you have happy memories of her and you know what a good person she was. You know, '_It's better to have loved and lost...'_"

"She wanted this for me," Jimmy said. "So much...I just wish she could be here." I smiled.

"She is," I told him. He smiled down at me. Then all at once there was a crack of thunder and rain began pouring down.

"Great!" I shot, musing over the walk back to my car, and the drive home on rain slicked roads.

"Why don't you come inside until it lets up some," he suggested.

"Thanks," I agreed as we made our way inside. His room was up on the second floor.

"Where's Jannie?" I asked. He shrugged.

"I think a bunch of guys are over in Buzz and Rizzo's room," Jimmy answered. "I think they ordered pizza."

"Sounds like my Buzzy," I said, taking a seat on the sofa.

"You want a drink?" Jimmy asked, peering into the fridge. "I've got some coke...and more coke...oh, and water."

"Coke, please," I said looking at him over the back of the sofa. He grabbed to sodas and handed me one, taking a seat next to me on the couch.

"My mom was the best," he said with a smile of nostalgia. "She put up with so much with the eight of us."

"Eight!" I gaped. "You're parents were nuts!"

"Four sisters, three brothers," he explained proudly. I looked at him, totally shocked. "We're Irish, what did you expect?" I laughed as he went on. "She was crazy about hockey. She was the one driving me to practice, and sharpening my skates, and digging lost hockey pucks out of her garden. Every year, I repainted one side of the house, from where I had the neighborhood kids take shots at me."

"She sounds like a very patient woman to me," I agreed.

"Growing up," he explained. "We didn't have a lot, but we were never unhappy—even when it came down to hand-me-downs and Spaghetti-o's. There was always enough to go around."

"Now that doesn't sound too bad," I agreed. "But I guess sometimes it's hard to let go." I reached into the pocket of my jacket, and pulled out an old, faded photograph. "I found this picture of my dad, in an old photo album of my mom's when I was little." I showed him the picture and the writing on the back, reading _Cody Smith, '58_. "Good looking guy, don't you think?" I asked. Jimmy nodded.

"You look like him," he noted. I think that was a complement, but I could be wrong.

"I just keep carrying this picture around," I went on. "Because one day I'm going to meet him and I'm going to tell him...I'm going to tell him: 'If you don't want me, then I don't want you either.'"

"That's what's been driving you all these years?" Jimmy asked.

"Don't make fun," I shot at him.

"No, no," he defended. "I just think that's a little depressing is all."

"Maybe it is," I agreed with a sigh. "I don't know. I just want so much to be normal. To have a mom and a dad who are married, and love each other and love me."

"How could anyone not love you?" He asked. Now **that** I _know_ was a compliment. I could feel my face start to blush as my heart started sinking deeper into my chest.

"My mom didn't want me," I said, my voice jumping an octave. "She didn't want to have me. She was a high school drop out, and an alcoholic, and she didn't want me."

"I don't think that's true," Jimmy said comfortingly.

"It is," I answered tears starting to well up in my eyes. "She told me. She didn't care." I just kept sinking lower and lower until I started bawling. Jimmy wrapped an arm around my shoulder and held me to him as I cried into his chest, taking in the light scent of men's cologne and cheap fabric softener with every gasping breath I took.

"She didn't give you away though did she?" Jimmy went on once I had just about cried myself out. "And you can beat yourself up about what might have happened, but it's never going to change what is. And the truth is that there's something about you special enough for her to want you to be a part of her family." I nodded as he handed me a tissue.

"You okay now," he asked. I nodded again, blowing my nose loudly.

"Hey, looks like it stopped raining," I motioned to the window. "I'd better get going."

"You know maybe we could grab some lunch some time," Jimmy suggested. "I really liked talking to you. It helps."

"Maybe," I agreed cautiously. "It helps talking to you too. I'll see you tomorrow." Perhaps I spoke too soon; we heard a loud banging noise, followed by shouts from some of the guys.

"That wasn't thunder," Jimmy said, as we both got up.

"Mac," I started up, having a pretty good idea of what was going on.

Jimmy and I rushed down the hall to a room with the door thrown open. Inside a bunch of the guys were restraining Robbie and O.C.

"**_STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!_**" I screamed, demanding everyone's attention. The boys turned to look at me in the doorway. "I knew this wasn't going to work," I said. "I told Herb the two of you were too _conceited_, and too _pig headed_, and too chocked full of _testosterone_ to ever burry the hatchet like normal humans and coexist."

"Hey!" O.C. started up, sensing that I had just insulted him.

"Yea," Mac shot at me. "We could get along if we wanted to!"

"We just don't want to," Jack continued defiantly.

"Really?" I asked. "Why don't you prove it?"

"We don't have to prove anything to you," O.C. shot.

"Not to me," I agreed. "But how about to Herb? I'll have to tell him about this little fight tomorrow, and I don't think he'll be very happy about it." The boys thought about it for a minute before Mac finally spoke up.

"I'm sorry O.C," He yelled at the top of his lungs.

"No I'm sorry!" O.C. shouted back, not to be outdone.

"I said it first," Mac said with a conceited smile.

"I said it with more enthusiasm," O.C. returned.

"Well I guess you boys proved me wrong," I said slyly. "And tomorrow I'll be sure to tell Coach how well you're both getting along." I started to make my way out of the room, before having a thought and turning back. "You might want to get some ice for that nose," I told Mac. Poor guy was starting to look like a raccoon with dark circles under his eyes and a big puffy bruised nose.


	6. Six

**A/N:** Here you have it. The answer to the question you've all been asking: "What happens when hockey players go for fast-food?" I'm going to ask for three reviews—or at least one really long review—before I post the next chapter. This story is mainly to keep my creative juices flowing while my other is on a temporary vacation. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. It was really fun to write.

**darkdestiny:** Her mom likes Buzz, I guess in retrospect I understand how that could cause confusion.

**meadow567:** sorry about the mix up:-)

* * *

Six

It was only the second day of practice and these boys were learning the meaning of the term 'hit the ground running.'

"Blue line—back. Red line—back. Far blue line—back. Far red line—back," Herb explained the infamous Herbies.. "Get used to this drill, boys, we're going to be doing it _a lot_. Why? Because, the legs feed the wolf, gentlemen." I rolled my eyes, knowing it'd take most of these boys another month to figure that little saying out.

"I can't promise you we'll be the best team at Lake Placid this February," Herb continued. "But we will be the best conditioned." He blew the whistle and the boys started off.

"Be prepared to grow through pain gentlemen." He went on with his morbid pep-talk as they were running the drills. "You're going to skate harder than you've ever skated in your life every minute of every day you're on the ice with me."

Uncle Herb pulled out this big transparent board and started to explain some crazy play he had spinning around in his head. That was followed by a quick lecture on the importance of weaving, and then a light lunch and the boys were back on the ice for another hour or two.

Before he sent them back to the lockers he pointed over to Mark Johnson.

"_What's your name?" Uncle Herb asked._

"_Mark Johnson, Coach," he answered._

"_Who do you play for?"_

"_University of Wisconsin, Coach."_

I headed back to my small office. I think it was a utility closet at one time. There were two bookshelves littered with film strips and old magazines against the side walls with a little desk crammed in the middle. There was one big window behind me, but it had bars on it. I looked away from my papers when I heard a knock on the door.

"Come on in," I called. Jimmy opened the door. "Hey there."

"So I was wondering if we could go get something to eat." He asked from the doorway. He was still only two feet away from me.

"A man after my own heart," I teased. "I am _starved!_ Anything in particular in mind?" He shook his head. I thought a minute before, "You know we could head over to the drive-thru at Annie's, they've got hamburgers and hotdogs, stuff like that."

"Sure," he agreed, when suddenly Mac's freshly showered head appeared in the doorway beside him.

"You're going over to Annie's?" He asked. I nodded. "Great I'll drive!"

"Where you going?" I heard Buzzy ask.

"Annie's you want to come?" Mac answered without missing a beat.

"Sure," Buzz answered. "I'll get orders from the other guys."

"Tell them we'll be in Jimmy's room in about an hour," Mac said. Jimmy rolled his eyes into the back of his head and laughed at me as I tried to climb out from behind my desk.

_**OOOOO**_

I was in the passenger's seat of Mac's car. Jimmy and Buzz were in the back as we drove by the small burger joint. It was starting to get dark outside and it didn't look like there were any lights on inside.

"I think they're closed," Jimmy said.

"No way," Mac said. "They're always open." He pulled over to the drive-through intercom and rolled down his window.

"Hello!" Mac called, there was no answer. "Are you open? Tell me if you're not open!" I laughed as he went on. "Hello, anyone home?"

"Try pulling up to the window," Buzzy suggested. Mac pulled up to the window, and reached over and started knocking loudly.

"Hello! You guys are really starting to piss me off," he yelled. "Are you open or what?" Finally a young blond woman opened the window.

"Hi, can I help you?" She asked chipperly, moving her head from side to side.

"Oh my God," I whispered back to Buzzy and Jimmy imitating the girl's squeaky tone. "It's fat-food Barbie!"

"Yea," Mac started angrily before immediately changing his tone, trying to be flirtatious. "Are you guys open?"

"Uh huh," she answered with a cheesy smile.

"We want food!" Buzz yelled from the back seat.

"Oh yea," Mac said, I handed him the list of the team's orders. "We need three cheeseburgers, one with ketchup—" He got fed up with that very quickly and shoved the list in her face. "You read it!" The girl looked down at the paper and started reciting the orders.

"Three cheeseburgers, two with ketchup, mustard, and pickles—"

"I don't know," Mac yelled. "You **have** the _list!_"

_**OOOOO**_

It took about half an hour to get our food, and it was totally dark by the time we got back to the dorms and all the guys were waiting in anticipation. We started handing out food and the guys were taking seats on the couch and floor and the chairs and on the table, as well as on the small section of floating counter sectioning off the tiny kitchen area. I doubt anyone got what they ordered.

"I think that's going to be our last experience with so-called 'fast-food'," I told them. "I hope one of ya'll can cook."

"I can cook," Rizzo offered, taking a bite out of his hamburger.

"Great!" I started up pointing to him. "Tomorrow, dinner is over at Rizzo and Buzzy's." O.C., Silky, and Coxie started to laugh. I had no clue why.

"Well," Jimmy started, plopping down in the seat next to me. "This isn't exactly what I had in mind when I asked you if you wanted to get some dinner."

"Well, that's what you get when you live in a dorm with twenty-five other guys," I reminded him.


	7. Seven

**A/N:** Sorry about the little bit of a wait. But I left Thursday for a band trip in South Carolina, which we dominated by the way. I got home last night at around eleven. Let me tell you, you can be a band geek and be built. Or a choir boy, they can be built too! Anyways I jumped in the Atlantic fully clothed Thursday night and now my throat is really sore. Anyway here's chapter seven and the reason why Faye likes Rizzo so much.

* * *

Seven

The next day practice began at 4 in the morning for the cheapest ice time. The boys were out skating some warm-ups for about an hour, before Coach got them running a few plays.

Mac had the puck and was heading up the boards, Coxie was right behind him. Mac maneuvered around O.C. and ran right into Ken Marrow.

"No! No! NO!" Herb yelled. "You've got four men being guarded by one guy. This isn't weaving for weaving's sake. Let's go, Johnson line up." I sighed heavily as the guys came back to the bench.

"Hey Faye," I heard a voice behind me. I turned to find Jimmy standing there in a sweat suite. "Could you help me with something?"

"Whatcha need Jim," I asked following him into the hallway. He handed me a fuzzy neon-green tennis ball.

"Take this," he instructed. "And stand right here." He positioned me in the middle of the hall. "I'm gonna stand here," he went on, positioning himself maybe a foot in front of me. "Now just bounce that off the wall."

"Jimmy I can't throw," I told him uneasily.

"I figured," he admitted. "That's okay. I'll just have to work harder to catch it."

"Oh," I said with mock-anger. "You assumed the girl couldn't throw." I chucked the tennis ball at the wall as hard as I could. It bounced off at an odd angle that sent it barreling towards the window in the door of Herb's office. It put a split in the glass, bounced off, and rolled across the floor to Jimmy's feet. He picked it up and handed it back to me without missing a beat. That's when Herb came down the hall.

"What happened to my door?" He asked curiously, noting the cracked glass. Jimmy looked back to me and we both started to laugh.

_**OOOOO**_

It was about six thirty when I finally got to Buzzy and Rizzo's room.

"Hey!" I started cheerfully. "Umm...what smells...interesting?"

"Spaghetti and meatballs," Rizzo explained. "You've got carbs and you've got protein, you can't loose."

"I'd like to contest that," O.C. protested, appearing in the doorway.

Slowly the guys started coming in and grabbing food and seats wherever they could squeeze in. I grabbed a spot between Jack and Silky at the card table the boys had set up. I forked a meatball and shoved the whole thing in my mouth at once, letting the sauce drip out of the corners of my mouth.

"I don't know how you people can eat with her," Jack groaned, gabbing his plate and finding a spot on the floor. I made a popping sound with my mouth as I pulled the meatball back out, well, minus the sauce.

"Doesn't bother me," Rammer said as he grabbed O.C.'s vacant seat before anyone else could.

"She just sucked the juice out of a meatball," Silky started up, looking to Rammer. "And that doesn't bother you?" I shrugged.

"It's just something you learn to live with," I told him as I shoved the meatball back in my mouth to finish it off.

_**OOOOO**_

After dinner a bunch of the guys stuck around. I was sitting with Rizzo and Silky and Coxie while some of the other guys were trying to pick out a movie to watch.

"So Faye," Rizzo began. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No," I said plainly. "I don't date."

"Why not?" Coxie asked. I was starting to feel a little awkward being quizzed about my romantic life.

"Because I don't trust guys," I answered with as much confidence as I could gather.

"Well you trust Buzzy," Silk reminded me.

"Buzz's different." I told them, "Because even though he's four years older than me, he still acts like my little brother."

"Well you trust Rizzo here don't you?" O.C. put in from his position in front of the TV.

"He's different," I answered.

"Why am I different?" Rizzo asked curiously.

"Rizzo's different because he's gay." I probably shouldn't have said that while Silky was taking a sip of his beer, because the next thing I know, it comes shooting out of his nose as he cracks up laughing.

"I'm what?" Rizzo asked.

"Oh come on," I figured they were messing with me. "No straight guy can cook like you."

"I can't believe you just _said_ that," Jack began in shock.

"You mean you're not?" I said my face burning in embarrassment. "I just thought you and Jack were attached at the hip all the time because you were—" I was cut off by a loud thump as Dave fell off his chair. He was literally rolling on the floor in laughter.

"I'm sorry Rizzo," I said sympathetically. I reached over to give him a hug.

"Careful!" Jack warned. "We don't need a horny Rizzo on our hands."

"Oh shut up Jack," I yelled at him.

"No you shut up." He yelled back.

"What are you my mother?" I shot.

"What are you my—" he stopped. "**Hey!**" I smiled victoriously. Pretty soon the guys found another way to occupy themselves other than making fun of my confusion of Rizzo's sexuality. They managed to decide on a movie.

"Here's one!" O.C. started up. "_The Amityville Horror_. What do you think, Faye, you up for it?" I shook my head as Mac interceded.

"Faye doesn't watch scary movies," he said.

"Why not?" Coxie asked looking curious.

"Herb and Patti threw me a surprise slumber party for my sweet sixteen," I started.

"Jannie and I showed up for cake and presents," Mac said.

"I didn't know Buzzy at the time," I continued. "After I opened presents we decided to watch a movie, and somehow we ended up voting on _Psycho_. We're watching the movie, and it's getting kinda creepy...then Herb decides it would be funny to sneak around to the side of the house to scare us."

"He starts banging on the window," Mac went on. "And she screams so loud I swear to God she woke the whole neighborhood up."

"Oh come on scared-y cat," O.C. teased. "Come sit down with us."

"I don't want too," I whined. Jack grabbed my ankle.

"I'm the monster who lives under your bed and I'm going to _get you!_" He teased.

"Stop it!" I yelled indecently. "Leave me alone!"

"Hey!" Jimmy interceded on my behalf. "She doesn't have to watch it if she doesn't want to." I nodded in thanks as Jim gave O.C. a light kick in the side to get him off of me.

"I think I'm gonna head out boys," I told them. There were several disappointed moans going around the room, primarily Buzz.

"I'll walk you," Jim offered.

"Thanks, Jimmy," I said as I pulled my windbreaker on and grabbed my purse.

He walked out with me to my car, parked close by the carport.

"So," Jimmy said. "I was wondering, maybe, if you weren't busy, if tomorrow we could go out somewhere after practice...You know without the entourage." I stopped, my eyes wide, staring at him in shock.

Was this actually happening? Did Jim Craig just ask me out?

"You mean, like on a date?" I wondered aloud. He shrugged.

"Well sort of," He corrected.

"Sort of?" I repeated in confusion.

"I actually thought I'd leave it up to you," he told me. "And if you wanted it to be a date it would be a date, and if not then we'd just be two friends spending some time together. What do you think?" I stood there dumb founded for a moment before I could speak.

"I can't believe you, Jimmy!" I told him, raising my voice slightly. "You actually had Rizzo ask if I had a boyfriend for you!" Jimmy laughed.

"Yea, he wasn't very inconspicuous about that was he?" Jimmy said looking a little nervous. "So which is it?" I know I said I usually don't date, but there was just something about Jimmy that made me trust him, so I smiled.

"It's a date," I said.

"Great," he answered, helping me into my car. "I'll see you tomorrow, Faye."

"See you tomorrow, Jimmy," I answered as he shut the door after me. I pulled out of my parking spot and watched him heading back to the building. I waited for a familiar sinking feeling in my stomach, but it never came. In fact I felt great. So I rolled down my window and let the cool breeze blow my hair as I drove home with a smile on my face.


	8. Eight

**A/N:** Sorry about the wait guys, I could have sworn I uploaded this last weekend, but I was so busy with school I guess I forgot. I hope it was worth the wait. I was debating whether to make it a little longer, but I guess that'll be the next chapter. That one might take a while; Final Exams are just around the corner. Well here you go, enjoy!

* * *

Eight

It was easy to see that there two things Herb wanted from these boys. He wanted them to work their asses of to be the best they could be. And he wanted them to be a team. He had a few more of the boys introduce themselves at the end of practice.

"Name's Christian," a dark haired guy introduced himself.

"Who do you play for?" Uncle Herb asked.

"University of North Dakota," Dave Christian answered. Herb let the boys go after that. They headed off to their locker room and I made my way back to my office to get a few things ready before my date with Jimmy.

"Hey, Faye," I head Jimmy from the door. "You ready to go?" I nodded. "Did you drive?"

"No, Herb gave me a ride," I explained.

"Great," he told me. "We'll take the bus."

_**OOOOO**_

"So how is everybody getting along?" I asked as we started our trek to the bus stop about a block away. Jimmy nodded.

"A lot better," he told me. "But some of the guys are starting to worry about whose getting cut." I nodded morbidly

"Yea, the Olympics are going to be here faster than you think," I said. "But, off the record, I don't think you or Jannie have much to worry about." He smiled.

"Yea, but I'm a little worried about Rizzo," Jimmy admitted. I nodded, knowing that Rizzo was struggling.

"But he tries," I reminded Jimmy. "And I know that'll count for something." The little open air trolley was crowded, but we did manage to find one empty seat. Jimmy let me have it and held onto the bar behind my seat.

"So where are you taking me?" I asked, looking up at him.

"I was talking to Jannie, about where you guys liked to hang out," Jim said. "He said you always liked the park." I smiled excitedly.

"Lake Meade Park?" I questioned excitedly. "Oh my gosh, I haven't been there in forever! There's this farmer's market, and they have the best food ever. There's a playground with swings and monkey bars. And there's this lake with little boats and hybrid catfish—and you can feed them. And there's this bridge with this huge trellis with all these vines and roses. And gardens and these enormous bird cages! Oh, oh, oh, and in the summer they have this fair at twilight, and there's a carousel and a Ferris wheel, and games, and it's so much fun!" I couldn't wait to get there. When the bus finally stopped I made a beeline for the swing set, with Jimmy hurrying to keep up with me.

I grabbed an empty swing, and Jimmy got behind me and pulled the swing way back to get me going.

"I remember Patti used to bring me here when I was little and my mom had to work," I told Jim. "I used to hide up in that little tower in the jungle gym and pretend I was Rapunzel and my Prince had to come and save me."

"Did he ever come?" Jimmy asked as I skidded to a halt.

"One time Herb had to come help me down," I said. "Does that count?" Jimmy laughed.

"No," he said as he gathered my hair at the nape of my neck. "Not long enough for me to climb yet, but it's getting there." I smiled as he grabbed the swing next to me.

"You know," he went on. "These people here with their kids have got to think we're nuts."

"Oh, who cares?" I laughed. "You want to go play in the sand box?" Jimmy shook his head.

"I'm kinda hungry," he admitted. "What's there to eat around here?"

"There's an open air market," I reminded him, pointing down the path. "And they have these pretzel dogs." He looked at me quizzically. "It's a hotdog wrapped in a pretzel, and I like the ones with cheese." He nodded getting up, and we headed over.

We got two pretzel dogs with cheese, and decided to take a walk through some of the gardens. We decided to take a seat on a stone bench on one side of the Virgin Mary in the shade of some tall birch trees.

"Tulips," I said, pointing to the flowerbed near us. "Tulips are my favorite. They stand for perfect love and beautiful eyes and beautiful smiles. And that's everything I want people to see in me." Jimmy smiled, wiping his mouth. "What's your favorite flower?" I asked. He paused, looking thoughtful for a moment.

"I like calla lilies," he said. I rolled my eyes.

"It figures," I teased him as we got up and continued our walk through the gardens. A little further back into the woods were these huge copper bird cages, rusted into a pale green. Inside were these gorgeous owls and doves, and this rescues red-tailed hawk that was blind in one eye.

"Maybe you should take a few steps back," Jimmy warned me nervously as I got really close to the cages. I laughed.

"Not an Alfred Hitchcock fan back there, are we?" I asked him with a wry smile. He shook his head.

"That was a creepy movie," he told me as I backed away from the bird cages.

"Did you know that a dove is just a white pigeon," I told him.

"I actually don't care, just as long as they don't decide to go berserk on the human race when the love birds die," Jimmy told me, as we headed back out of the woods.

"Oh, please," I laughed. "I would make fun of that movie to make you feel better, but it makes fun of itself." We passed a little cart, selling caramel apples.

"Oh, I love caramel apples," I told him.

"You want one?" He asked.

"Oh, that's okay," I said. "You paid for lunch." Jimmy insisted on getting me one anyway, and I took the biggest bite out of it that I could manage.

"You are the best, Jimmy," I told him. He shrugged as if to say 'I know.' I laughed.

"Where to next?" He asked me.

"Let's head over to the lake," I suggested, as we headed over. We followed the path out to the sunshine and then to the bridge across the lake. We passed kids on bikes and people reading newspapers, sitting on park benches. There was a fence bordering the lake, with vending machines full of raw corn and other fish food placed at odd intervals along the path.

"Let's feed the fish," Jimmy told me as we walked up to one of the machines. "Put your hand under," he told me, taking what was left of my caramel apple and turning the crank to dump some fish food into my hands.

I tossed some over to a small group of ducks and watched the swarm of fish mob them. Jimmy and I laughed as they flopped on top of one another as I tossed the rest of the food in.

"It's a forgy," Jim laughed. I gave him a look. "You know a fish-orgy." I laughed.

"Mac used to spit in the water," I told him. "The fish went nuts."

"Eww," Jimmy laughed and took a bite out of my apple. I smacked his arm lightly and he handed it back to me as we headed over the bridge. By now the sun was going down and the lights from the carnival rides and games started to come on.

We made a mad dash for the carousel and jumped onto two horses just as it started to move. I grabbed Jimmy's hand and refused to let go, even as he was going up and I was heading down.

"Were we supposed to pay?" He asked after I nearly pulled him off his horse. I shrugged.

"Who knows?" I answered. I pointed to where there was a little drum and cymbals being hit with small mallets as the gears turned a little music-box crank, filling the night air with the sounds of the _Notre Dame Victory March_, and other up beat music.

We rode on the Ferris wheel and one of those Hurricane coasters, and shared some cotton candy afterwards. And we made our way over to the section with all the games. We played some ski-ball, because I'm absolutely a ski-ball junky. We passed the dunking booth, where a Bozo was shouting colorful insults at people.

"You want me to win you something?" Jimmy asked. I shook my head. "I actually used to be really good at this," he went on. "Come on, let's give it a try." He paid for three worn baseballs, and gave one to me.

"Try it," he instructed. I threw the baseball and missed terribly. I laughed, as the Bozo called out more playful insults.

"Hey buddy, you might want to tell her the rules," he called over to Jimmy. "And explain the big words: HIT THE TARGET!" I laughed some more, rolling my eyes. Now it was Jimmy's turn. He threw the ball and the Bozo went under mid-insult. I laughed happily.

"Hey lady," the Bozo shouted as he climbed back onto his seat. "I might be wet, but you're ugly. And guess what, tomorrow I'll be dry, and you'll still be ugly." I laughed with everyone else who was watching as Jimmy dunked the man into the slimy water again.

Jim let me pick out his prize so I chose medium sized stuffed pony; it was purple and really soft. I thanked him, smiling as we continued down the path.

"It's getting a little late," I told him. "We should get you home so you can get some sleep." He nodded and we headed back to the trolley stop in the parking lot.

There weren't any empty seats on the bus this time so we stood in the aisle until we got to the stop about a block from my house.

"This is my stop," I told him. He went to get off with me. "You don't have to come with me," I reminded him.

"Typical date procedure," he told me. "I have to see you to your door." I smiled, as we walked down the sidewalk together.

"You know it was really nice for you to take me out like this," I told him.

"You want to do it again sometime?" He asked me. I nodded.

"I'd love to," I said. "But I think it might be better if we kept low key for a while. I wouldn't want to ruin anybody's game by having them worry about me going out with you."

"Yea, that's probably best," he agreed. "At least until the final cut." He paused. "Do you think Herb'll mind?" I looked at him a little confused as I continued up my drive way.

"I mean, it seems like you're practically a daughter to him and he might be scared you'll get hurt," Jimmy explained. I looked up at him and smiled.

"I'm not scared of being hurt by you," I explained. "Thanks again Jimmy, I really had a good time." I stood up on tip-toe and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before ducking inside.


	9. Nine

**A/N:** Hi everyone, sorry about the wait. I'm not too crazy about this one actually, it was hard to write. It explains some stuff though. Now I know the tobacco smoke hysteria really got crazy mid to late 80's. So I'm guessing by '79 there were some studies saying that smoking was harmful to your health. Sorry if I'm wrong.

Nine

I came into the house, and I could smell bar in the air; a sickeningly familiar smoky, alcohol smell. Mom was home from her shift at the seedy bar down the road. She was sitting on our old ratty couch, nursing a pack of Salems. She shifted her blank gaze towards me. Drunk, figures. You know some people get mean when they're drunk, some people get depressed and even just plain stupid. My mom just gets evil.

"So who was that?" She asked blandly as she got up to cut me off from the stairs.

"Just a friend." So I lied a little. She went to take my carnival prize, and I let it go.

"So how is he?" She asked. Did you catch that ellipse?

"He's nice," I answered, avoiding confrontation.

"He's not good, he's not bad," she pressed, wringing the stuffed animal's neck viciously in her willowy hands. "He's just...nice." I kept my mouth shut; I didn't care what she thought, not really. "You use protection?" Ouch, talk about a loaded question.

"Mom, I—"

"Yes or no," she cut me off firmly. Here's where it gets tricky. If I say yes, then it means I'm having sex. If I say no, well, then I'm just stupid.

"Yes." I answered. The lesser of two evils. I know my mother couldn't care less about what I do with my body, so long as I don't end up pregnant. Not so much because she doesn't want me throwing away my life like that, but because the idea of some little person calling her 'grandma' horrifies her.

"Go upstairs," she ordered, tossing the stuffed animal at me. **Bam**, end of conversation. I hurried up to my room, my sanctuary from the rest of the house. Double bed, down pillows, two or three incense burners, candle holders shaped like moons and stars, mahogany furniture, nightstand, dresser, vanity always clean. I threw myself across my bed and cuddled my pony until I fell asleep.

I woke the next morning and realized I had overslept my alarm. I jumped out of bed, threw on some clothe, and made a mad dash out to my car. I sped all the way to the rink, and ran in as if the devil himself were after me. The boys were running some plays, and Uncle Herb was not happy. I took a seat in the box as he chewed out Rizzo.

"No. No! No! No!" Herb yelled. "Get him to a point. Come on Rizzo! You're quarterbacking this play. I got you running this play. The only thing you're going to run right now it the bench. Mac, get out here." Rizzo hobbled back to the box as Mac hopped over the boards. It was at that point that I realized I hadn't had my coffee, tranquilizer, or morning cigarette yet.

"I'm going to head out to get a cigarette," I informed Rizzo with what, I hope, was an encouraging touch on the shoulder.

"Those things _(wheeze)_ are going to _(wheeze)_ kill you," he made a point of telling me. Great, Doc Jr.

"That," I made a pointed gesture to Uncle Herb. "Is gonna kill **you**."

"At least _(cough,)_" _he took a quick_ drink of water. "I can _(cough) _quit," he told me with a smirk. Rizzo should never smirk, it's not becoming of him at all. There should be a law against Rizzo smirking, ever.

"_At least I can quit,"_ I mocked with a frown on my face. So I turned into a two-year-old. You have to remember I still haven't had my morning dose of nicotine.

I came back down the hallway after five consecutive cigarettes to find a row of the guys doing wall sits. And I thought I complained a lot. _"It hurts, it hurts." "Not good, not good."_ Babies, okay, okay. I don't have a lot of room to talk.

I continued out to the ice to find some of the other boys shooting pucks at Jimmy. He was struggling, and swore loudly in frustration.

Coach cut two more guys after practice. He had me worried for a while, but I was glad to see all my babies still had their names on tape above their lockers after the boys showered and dressed and Coach Pat gave me the 'all clear' to enter the lockers. Forgive me if the idea of hockey players in nothing but their birthday suits makes me a tad bit uncomfortable, but as long as I've known some of these guys it would be like seeing your brother naked. And that's just creepy whatever the circumstances may be.

"Hey," I heard Jimmy come up behind me, and he wrapped an arm around my waist. A quick glance around the lockers proved we were alone.

"How's about a second date?" He asked playfully. I laughed.

"Right now?" I asked, as he rocked me back and forth. Jimmy nodded. "Where to?"

"Right here," he said. "The rink's going to be free for another hour, I'm sure we could hunt down some figure skates."

"Jimmy we can't," I started defensively. "Herb's right down the hall."

"C'mon," he urged in his heart melting Bostonian accent. "You know he'll be glued in his office until they come to fix that window." He laughed a little in my ear, and I felt a shudder go up my spine. Oh, Jimmy, if you only knew what you could do to me.

"Jimmy, I don't skate," I admitted finally.

"Jeeze Faye," he teased me. "Don't be such a stick in the mud."

"No, Jimmy," I said firmly. "I _can't_ skate." His blue eyes widened considerably as he gazed at me.

"You're kidding, right?" He asked. I shook my head.

"Herb tried to teach me a bunch of times when I was younger, but I never could get the hang of it." I said. "I haven't put on a pair of skates since I was six."

"I guess that means I have to teach you," he offered at length.

"Jimmy, don't," I pleaded.

"No I have to," he pressed. I don't know how he did it, but Jimmy actually managed to find me a pair of size six figure skates, and after declaring that my feet were freakishly small, he managed to get me onto the ice.

Not that I did well. My weight switched from edge to edge, haphazardly so that my ankles almost skimmed the ice, and I hit my butt the minute I set foot on the ice. But lucky for me, some of Margaret Craig's patience rubbed off on her son. Jimmy helped me up, and helped me find some balance, we skated about ten feet, before hitting a wet patch and I slipped, taking him down with me.

Jimmy just laughed, and got up as I sort-of crawled off to the side and clung to the boards, taking careful baby steps until Jim came over to pry me away. He skated backwards, skates moving in wide arcs, holding my hands until I could glide a little. I fell a few more times, plowing him down once, and grabbing him for support, lost my footing and brought him down on top of me once more.

After the better part of a half-hour I was doing fairly well. He was behind me, one arm around my waist, supporting me. I reached one arm up, around his neck, holding his hand against my stomach with my other.

"Do you know the kind of looks I'll get when people find out that the goalie taught me to skate?" I mused. Jimmy laughed.

"Just because I usually stay in a circle doesn't mean that I don't know how to skate," he defended.

"And just because I grew up in Minnesota doesn't automatically mean that I can ice skate," I returned craftily. Jimmy missed a beat. "Ha, checkmate."

"Do you trust me?" He asked, turning me to face him in the center of the ice rink.

"I think so," I answered. He slipped his arms underneath mine, and pulled me closer to him. My breath was coming quicker as I wrapped my arms around him.

"Close your eyes," he instructed. And so I did, burring my face in his chest taking in the familiar scent. I felt him push off with one foot, and we were spinning, fast. I pulled him closer to me, barely hearing the scrape of metal on ice above our hearts beating. Mine was faster, his was slower. We span around and around, until I felt dizzy. My feet clamped together and we both went down.

He was smiling, but I was hurting by now and my pants were soaked through and through.

"I think I'm done for the day," I said carefully. He got me up and helped me off the ice.

"Do you want to get some hot chocolate?" He offered. "Or coffee or something? Blanket? New clothes?" I could barely crack a smile as I worked on removing the skates. I suddenly had a strong urge to just get away. I was feeling really funny all of a sudden. I had this weird sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach and my heart was pounding, and my head was still spinning.

I really liked Jimmy; I really, really liked him. He was a good-looking guy, and I just couldn't tell if I liked him because he was good-looking, or because he was showing interest in me, or because he was being so sweet, or if it was something else. Whatever the circumstances, I was afraid of liking him too much. For my own good and his own.

"Faye!" Jimmy was calling my name. I snapped out of my daze and found him looking at me, concerned. "Are you alright?" I nodded, still a little spacey. "Second date, got you skating. It wasn't easy, wasn't romantic, but we got through it. Mission accomplished right? Faye?" I was off in my own little world again. "What's wrong?" He asked.

"I'm okay," I offered, still dazed. "I just want to go home...and maybe take a cold shower." Jimmy looked a little weirded out, and as much as I might have told myself I should, I didn't want to chase him away. "I'm sorry Jim," I began with growing unease. "I don't usually do this." He nodded, he had heard the story—dad, lack of trust, but that wasn't it, and therein lies our problem. "There's a reason I don't do this. There's a reason I don't date anymore." He sat down next to me, a willing ear. "I dated in high school...a lot."

"And," he pressed. "There's nothing catastrophic about that."

"Yea, but I did some very bad things in high school, very bad things," I admitted nervously.

"Faye, need I remind you, that I live in a dorm with Silky and O.C.," Jimmy offered kindly. "There's not much that surprises me."

"Well I started drinking and smoking my freshman year. Dated half the football team at one point," I began slowly. "I slept with a couple different guys I didn't know too well—okay it was more like seventeen different guys."

"Wow. I stand corrected," he looked a little surprised at that one. "Sorry, I just don't see it. You just seem...innocent." But he meant naïve.

"I know," I continued. "I'm damn lucky I didn't wind up with any diseases. I stole some things, nothing too big. Then one day, when I was fifteen, these two other guys got me to break into someone's house with them, and we got arrested." That one threw him for a loop. "They let me go; they kept the other two guys—whose names I don't even remember—and Herb came to pick me up from the police station. We were sitting at a red light, I was pissed as hell, and waiting for him to break into some big lecture, and he looked over and told me: 'Alright, Faye, be the victim. I don't care, and the police definitely don't care. But when you wind up dead or in jail, you remember it's nobody's fault but yours, because you don't have to be the victim.' He told me I was smart, and that I didn't have to live off of other people's pity. He told me that I could be happy, but I had to work for it, just like everyone else.

"That's when I stopped screwing around, and finished up with high school with a 4.0, joined a few clubs. Herb had been working at the U long enough to help me get in on next-to-nothing tuition. I got scholarships for everything—academics, band, and for being left handed." I never understood that one, but it got me into college, so I really didn't care how weird it sounded. "I got to know Jannie and Mac, and I met Buzzy, and they all made me feel like people could be interested in me for things other than sex. But there's still things I need work on. Drinking and smoking. And I don't think that I could get too deep in a relationship. I don't think I can, I'm too messed up."

"You're not messed up," he assured me, taking my hand. "You just didn't get loved the way kids need—"

"Don't pity me, Jim," I pleaded. "I don't know what the hell I need now, but it sure isn't pity."

"I just want to..." he was angry but he wasn't, and he didn't know how to say what he wanted to say. "I wish I could make you happy."

"You do make me happy," I told him. "And that's what scares me. I want to love you, but I can't, I'm too scared off falling back in that pattern." He leaned in a little closer, I pulled away.

"Don't, please don't," I said uneasily. "Please, just don't kiss me. I'm just not worth it, unless..." I searched his face for the right words. "Don't kiss me unless you love me." He just smiled and leaned in and kissed me light on the lips, then a little deeper. I could have been cautious, but this felt just too damn good.


	10. Ten

**A/N:** Hi everybody. Sorry about the wait and about my other story if you happen to care. My muse is giving me a hard time lately, so review or send me an e-mail with any comments, ideas or questions.

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Ten

Uncle Herb was running through a play in the beginning of practice the next day. He was sketching it out on a clear board as the boys stood by watching carefully. "Weaving." "Options." That was Coach's mantra. I may not be a hockey buff, but a hybrid of Soviet and Canadian hockey can't be an easy style to develop.

"Boom, he can hit it. He can hit it. Boom. Boom. Boom." Herb explained, he seemed really excited about it. "We're opening up options. Any questions?" The boys stood in silence. "Okay let's go." Uncle Herb made his way out to the ice and the boys stood there shell-shock a minute, before:

"What the hell is he talking about?" Buzz asked looking dazed.

"No clue," Robbie replied. At least we were all in the same boat.

"How about you?" Brooks asked.

"Mark Pavelich," the smaller, dark haired boy answered.

"Who do you play for?"

"UMD Bulldogs." The typical Q and A that came every morning. But what we didn't know then was that today would be a very good day for us. Today Herb discovered the Coneheads.

The line was made up of Buzz, Bah, and Pav, and the way they played together was out of this world...like the Coneheads. They weaved in and out and around in crazy patterns passing regularly and circling one another. There was an audible clack as the puck hit the back of the net. And the boys started off congratulating one another.

"You three," Herb called looking subtlety impressed, for once. "Run that again."

"Again?" They questioned, but were agreeable.

_**OOOOO**_

After lunch the boys were taking shots on goal. It was clear that Jim was struggling. He let three out of the first four shots get by him. Then Johnson went flying up the center of the ice and took a shot. The puck went flew through the air and hit Jimmy in the face and bounced away.

"Woo hoo!" I screamed supportively from the bench. "Yeah Jimmy!" I clapped and cheered, and soon all the guys followed suit. Herb smiled and rolled his eyes at me.

_**OOOOO**_

I entered Uncle Herb's office with Coach Patrick, to find Jimmy seated in front of his desk.

"So I know how you feel," Uncle Herb offered. "Hell, we don't have a chance. But don't let them know that." Jim nodded in agreement. "I'll see you Monday."

"Faye, do you have a minute?" Jimmy asked me and I walked back into the hallway with him. The minute the door closed behind me he planted a very wet kiss on my lips.

"What was that for?" I asked, surveying the hallway for any witnesses. Jimmy shrugged.

"A bunch of the guys are going to spring for a restaurant that serves more than fish and chips and beer tomorrow night," he said. "You want to come?"

"Love to," I said, planting a quick peck on his lips and went to hug him.

"Coneheads," he chimed, by way of a warning, I spun around to find Buzz, Bah, and Pav approaching.

"Hey guys," I called tot hem, waving a goodbye to Jimmy as I entered the office with them.

"Come in boys," Uncle Herb directed at the three of them..

"You wanted to see us coach," Bah asked. They all looked a little nervous, or at least unsure.

"Yea," Herb began. "I was thinking about keeping the three of you on the same line. Everybody okay with that?" I smiled brightly, at Buzzy.

"Yea, sure," the boys agreed.

"What about you Buzzy? How are things going here with Bah and Pav?" Coach asked.

"Things are going good," Buzz answered. "We're moving the puck well; it's just a little different playing with them."

"Yea I don't know how to explain it," Bah added. "We seem to just find each other at the other end off the ice and make things happen."

"Pass, shot, score," Pav offered.

"Pass, shot—"

"And score," Buzz finished for Bah. Coach Pat and Uncle Herb gave each other mystified looks as I wrapped Buzz up in a big bear hug.

"Way to go!" I congratulated him.

"Hey!" Pav complained, feeling left out. I mussed his dark hair playfully.

"You, too," I offered. Bah gave me a look with his puppy-dog eyes. "And you," I offered.

"Alright boys," Coach Brooks started. "We'll see you next week."

"Bye Coach," they replied, as we left the office.

"Rest up," Coach Patrick called.

_**OOOOO**_

After practice some of the boys decided to go for pizza and beer and meet back at the dorms at 6 o'clock for dinner. Doc and Herb apparently wanted them eating early. Probably something to do with their metabolism, but I don't see what would be wrong with a few of the guys bulking up. Right well, back to pizza and beer. We came back to the dorms with the food, and all the guys on the third floor had their doors open and people were floating back and forth.

I finally found a seat with Jim on his couch, with Rizzo, Coxie, Jannie, O.C., Mac, Buzz, and Rammer nearby. I had gone through God knows how many beers—lost count around eight or nine—and a slices of pizza for the day, and I was feeling extremely drunk.

"Has anyone else noticed," I rambled, slurring my words slightly. "That Jannie and Coxie are twins. It might be me, or it might be the mustache, but I think they could be brothers."

"Is she okay?" Mac asked nervously.

"I'm fine," I replied with a slight giggle. "You want to hear myPatsy Clineimpersonation."

"Oh no," Buzzy piped in. "She's whipping out thePatsyClineimpersonation. You know what that means."

"She's drunk," Jimmy declared. I groaned.

"Stop yelling," I hissed at him, bending over with my hands pressed to my temples. "My head hurts."

"Come on Rock Star," Jimmy offered helping me off the couch. "Let's get you to bed." He led me back towards the small bedroom, making a pit stop in the bathroom for the waste paper basket. He got me into his bed and pulled the covers over me. "You have to throw up, throw up in here for me, okay?" He said, indicating the trashcan.

"I'll try," I agreed. And he went to get me a glass of water.

"The guys are gonna get outta here to give you some quite," he said handing over a glass. "Drink this." I downed half the water in one continuous draught, and set the rest on the nightstand.

"Come 'ere baby," I urged, pulling on the front of his shirt. He ducked away from my embrace. "What's the matter?" I asked, I must have looked hurt.

"You're not thinking strait," he reminded me. "Lie down, go to sleep." He went to leave, but I grabbed his arm.

"Don't leave," I pleaded. "Don't leave me. I don't want to be alone. Just stay with me." Jim sighed, setting himself down on the bed and pulling the covers up over him. I sighed happily, as he put one arm around me and kissed my forehead lightly.

A guy who takes care of you and cuddles with you and won't take advantage of you when you're punch-drunk, now if that's not love, I don't know what is.

_**OOOOO**_

So I woke up the next morning with the mother of all hangovers. It was only after I discovered the headache and nausea that I realized I was snuggled against something warm and slightly hairy. I cracked my eyes open and found Jimmy in bed with me.

"Aww, no," I groaned loudly, letting my head fall back onto the pillow. Jimmy yawned, coming out of sleep and looked over to me.

"Good morning Sunshine," he offered. That's when I noticed we were both still fully clothed. Phew. "How do you feel?"

"Head...hurts," I groaned, rubbing my temples. Jimmy chuckled softly to himself, and headed to the bathroom, returning a moment later with a glass of water and a couple of aspirin.

"Thanks Jimmy," I replied, taking a drink of water before downing the aspirin. He took a seat in bed beside me and rubbed my back. "I'm going back to sleep," I declared, lying back down.

"I don't think so," he teased, pulling the covers off of me playfully and blew into my stomach as we laughed and I writhed happily. He rested his chin on my belly and I ran my hands through his hair; smiling at him, smiling at me.

"So what do you Minnesotans do on Saturdays," Jimmy asked with a slight smirk. "After you've slept through your hangovers...Take cold showers?" I laughed. I hummed to myself thoughtfully.

"We could get some of the guys together and go to the pool," I suggested. "Then tonight we could go out to eat, there's a place not to far with a bar and a band that knows just about any song you can think of, and pretty decent cheese fries."

"So first we'll get something to eat, then we'll see if the guys want to go swimming and then dinner and dancing," Jimmy agreed. "You want to jump in the shower, I'll see if we have anything for breakfast."

"Oh but, I don't have any clothes to change into," I protested weakly. Jimmy leaned over me and rummaged through his drawer before removing a worn plaid shirt. "Thanks," I offered politely, getting up and heading for the bathroom.

"I could try to find you some pants," he offered.

"Thanks," I called back teasingly. "But I have hips."

I turned the water on as hot as my skin could bear and stood under the spray. I smiled to myself noting the man-scent of Jimmy's shower gel and shampoo as I washed my hair. It reminded me of a candle in my room, with a light musky scent. I always thought it smelled like a man coming out of the shower. The man without the hassle.

I came out of the hot shower and pulled on Jimmy's shirt. It swam on me of course, but it was comfy. I headed out of the bathroom to see if Jimmy had scrounged up some food.

"Hey, Jimmy, you seriously owe me. I had to wrestle this donut away from Mac for you," I heard someone call, but by then it was too late. I had already turned the corner in nothing but Jimmy's shirt. I saw Jannie and shrieked, hurrying to find more coverage. He yelped in surprise and his hands flew to cover his eyes.

"Faye!" He hollered, as I rushed into the bathroom and grabbed my cutoff jeans. "You, er, stayed the night," he went on awkwardly, still averting his gaze as I came out a shred more decent than I was before.

"Yea," Jimmy interceded. "She got a little tipsy after a few beers last night. I didn't want her driving home, so I invited her to stay the night."

"Oh, well," Jannie started, looking like someone on the out-side of an inside joke. "I guess I should have grabbed another donut."

"You don't mind, do you?" I asked worriedly. Jannie shook his head,

"No." He offered, "I just wish you'd give me a little warning if you're going to be walking around in your underwear and Jimmy's shirt is all." I smiled at him and gave him a polite kiss on the cheek.

"I think I'm going to head home now anyways," I offered. "Jimmy, I'll meet you and anyone else who wants to come at the pool around one, okay."

"Sure," he agreed looking ever so slightly letdown.

As I drove home I decided that Jimmy and I were going to have to be careful if we wanted to keep things under wraps until the final cut.


	11. Eleven

Eleven

I got to the pool a little after one in the afternoon. A bunch of the guys were already there. Some were starting a game of water volleyball, while others were congregation on beach chairs by the pool. Jimmy called me over and I set my stuff down on the chair next to him.

"You want some sunscreen?" He asked me as I pulled off my sundress, revealing my black bathing suite, a halter top and shorts with a few white flowers with holes in their centers. Three above my chest and on my left leg.

"Put it on before I left the house," I told him. O.C. snorted from his position on my left.

"Hey," I shot angrily. "It's not my fault. I don't tan, I burn like a burger on a grill—and it isn't pleasant."

"Burger?" Rizzo perked up from his seat on the other side of O.C. we all laughed.

"C'mon," Jimmy urged me, finally getting up. God, he looked good shirtless. "Let's get in the water." He grabbed my hand and led me to the edge of the deep end. I dipped a toe in and pulled back quickly, it was cold.

"Just jump in," he promised me. "You won't even feel it." I didn't realize it at the time, but Verchota had been chasing Buzzy and Christian around with an old pair of somebody's tighty whities, and they ran into me, and the next thing I knew I was in the water. It was a shock at first but my body adjusted quickly.

After maneuvering out from under the three boys I surfaced with all my hair thrown in front of my face, so I was sure my first, desperate breath was careful, before I flicked all my out of my face.

"You pushed me in!" I yelled at Phillie, splashing him angrily.

"You bit my ankle!" He yelled back. I wasn't sure how that was possible, since I had surfaced looking like the swamp thing.

"Did not!" I hollered back.

"I'm getting out of here," he announced, swimming for the ladder. "You, Ankle-Biter, you!"

"Gross," Christian yelled finally. "Phillie, that wasn't Faye who bit your ankle...It was me—anybody got some mouthwash?" We all laughed.

"You okay?" Jimmy asked, swimming up besides me.

"Yea," I offered. "But next time, I'm using the ladder." He laughed,

"Fair enough."

We played volleyball in the water, Marco Polo, and a few other pool games, had a cannonball contest—which Rizzo promptly won—and a few of the guys shot hoops in just their swim-trunks. We had a blast. Somewhere between five and six we all dried off and pulled some clothes on and headed out to the restaurant by the pier.

* * *

We had to what a few minutes for them to push a couple tables together by the band stand. There were a few, older couples out on the dance floor as we all ordered our food.

A few things I picked up from eating with the guys: Pav never orders steak, Rizzo always puts his napkin on his lap, and Johnson can seriously put away raw clams. Honestly, I don't know where it all goes...he's like a bottomless pit.

"Well that was good," Bah announced leaning back in his seat as it seemed we were all finishing up.

"Yea...if I ever see another meatball as long as I live it'll be too soon," Verchota agreed. The boys burst into a round of laughter.

"Hey," I started. "Lest we forget, if it weren't for Rizzo's meatballs you'd all starve five nights a week." Some of the boys snickered. I rolled my eyes.

"I'm trying to convince Gail to have you guys over," Buzz said. "I think she might need a bit more coercing before she's ready to play team mom." That sent the boys into another round of laughs.

"We might be able to do dinner at my house one night," I suggested.

"What next?" Bah asked, from the other end of the table.

"What else," O.C. replied quickly. "More beer!" And we were all laughing again. The guys ordered a couple more pitchers of whatever they had on draft and the band started playing 'Rosalita.'

"I think I know of a Springsteen fan who'd like to dance with me," Mac teased, getting up and pulling me out to the dance floor with him.

We twirled around, and he spun me energetically as we danced. When the song ended and another began I found myself with a new partner.

"O.C. I never took you for a dancer," I teased him as the band entered the first chorus of 'Vehicle.' He shrugged. "But anything Mac has you want right?" I jibbed lightly and he laughed, twirling me out and wrapping me back into his arms. That song had ended and Jack left me. I noticed Jimmy up talking to one of the guys in the band and they seemed to reach an agreement, before he came over to me.

"So how about a dance," he asked. I didn't answer, but let him take my one hand in his, and he set his other at my waist. I put my hand on his shoulder and leaned into his chest as he rocked us back and forth easily as the music started,  
Baby hair with a woman's eyes  
I can feel you're watching in the night...

"I love this song," I said looking up at him. He smiled down at me.

"I know," he offered. "I asked around...Buzzy told me you were a Hall and Oates freak." My eyebrows knitted together.

"Me think-eth, me need-eth have words with Buzzy," I said with a slight laugh, making Jim laugh too.

_All alone with me and we're waiting for the sunlight  
When I feel cold, you warm me  
And when I feel I can't go on, you come and hold me  
It's you... And me forever..._

As we rocked this way and that with the music, I felt my heart skip a beat as Jimmy leaned over and cooed the next line in my ear,

_Sara Smile  
Won't you smile a while for me,  
Sara_

And I found I couldn't do anything but just that. Jimmy glowed back at me as we danced. Our first dance. And we shared it with a hockey team and a bunch of old folks at a restaurant by the water.

_If you feel like leaving you know you can go  
But why don't you stay until tomorrow?_

It seemed like a few of the boys had managed to find a couple girls who weren't too old, and didn't look too bad. I was sure I was glowing, and floating on air as Jimmy twirled me out and back into him, hugging me closer. I could feel his strong hand on the bare skin of my newly-sunburned back and hear my flip-flops paddling against the hard-wood of the dance floor.

_If you want to be free, you know, all you got to do is say so  
And when you feel cold, I'll warm you  
And when you feel you can't go on, I'll come and hold you  
It's you... And me forever..._

I could hear and feel his breath and his heart in his chest, soft and slow and strong. Here in his arms I felt safe...and I felt peace. Even as he sang to me in a low whisper,

_Sara Smile  
Won't you smile a while for me  
Sarah..._

The song came to an end all too quickly. I sighed sadly, knowing that one of the boys was bound to cut in any minute. I didn't want to let go. True to form, Phil was the first to approach us as the next song started to play.

"Mind if I cut in, Jimbo?" He asked. Jimmy nodded stepping back, and Phil grabbed me and the next thing I knew he was dragging me along as he spun and stomped around the dance floor haphazardly as the band played 'Beach Baby.' I was laughing so hard I didn't even realize how ridiculous we looked.

The song ended and we took a bow and an instant later Jannie had scooped me up and sung me around like a rag doll. The rest of the night was like that, the boys passing me around like a hot potato, as we all laughed and drank, and had a good time in general. Before we knew it the band packed up and we headed out.

"Faye," Jimmy called, I looked over at him and he held out a hand to me, jerking his head towards the water. I took his hand and he led me out to the pier, it was dark and a shadow moon was trying to watch us from the water. "Thought we could use a few minutes without the peanut gallery," he said sitting down on the end of the pier. I laughed and followed suite.

"Tell me about it," I agreed leaning on his shoulder. "I had fun."

"Me too," he replied. "The restaurant was a good choice...although I doubt they'll ever let us back." I laughed.

"Maybe not Silky," I teased light-heartedly. Jimmy laughed.

"He's the only guy I know who will purposefully get drunk enough to feel up an old lady," Jimmy agreed and we both snickered lightly. I sighed and leaned over and kissed his cheek lightly. He smiled and gave me a small peck on the lips.

"I love you, Faye," he told me earnestly. I took a moment to gather my stamina before replying,

"I love you, too, Jimmy."


	12. Twelve

Twelve

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do?" I heard Herb in his office; he seemed to be having a spaz-attack, so I entered with extreme caution hoping I could be of some help.

"What's wrong?" I asked, looking from Craig to Herb for an answer.

"What's wrong?" Herb repeated. "What's wrong is that I have to get a hockey team to Norway by tomorrow afternoon."

"It's okay," I assured him.

"It's not okay," Herb insisted. "We have no plane tickets, no hotel reservations."

"Herb!" I started.

"What am I supposed to do?" He babbled.

"Herb!" I yelled.

"I'm in way over my head," he continued.

"HERB!" I yelled, grabbing his face. "Breathe Herb! Breathe!" He calmed down just enough for me to get my point across. "I've already gotten our plane tickets, and made reservations for transportation and lodging."

"You did?" He questioned. "When did you do that?"

"Weeks ago, when you came into my broom closet and said," I tried my best to impersonate a deep-throated hockey player. "'Faye, I'm gonna need you to arrange the trip to Norway.'"

"I said that?" He asked in disbelief. I nodded. "Thank you Faye," He started up. I yelled in surprise as he lifted me off my feet and spun me around, kissing my forehead, before he set me back down. "Thank you, thank you, thank you. I owe you a very big bonus." I gave him an odd look.

"Not to protest the bonus or anything," I started cautiously. "But I was just doing my job."

"You mean that's why I hired you?" He asked as though it was just occurring to him. "I'm so glad I did." I shook my head at him.

* * *

I dragged my suitcase down the stairs early the next morning.

"Bye mom, I'm going to Norway," I called.

"Psch, Norway," I heard my mother scoff from her position on the couch as I headed out the door.

* * *

"Alright Faye," Patty bid me goodbye at the terminal gate as Herb worked on getting the boys on the plan . "Don't you run off with any hott Norwegian hockey players on me...Can't loose Kelly and Danny's favorite babysitter, can we?"

"Don't worry I won't," I promised. If she only knew...

"And don't let those boys get in too much trouble, alright?" She continued and gave my forehead a little kiss. 

"I can't make any promises," I warned. "Because there's twenty of them and one of me."

"I'm more worried about Herb," she joked. I laughed.

"I'll do my best," I promised. "I'd better get going, but I'll see you in a couple days."

"Alright," she agreed as I gathered my things to board the plane. "Good luck! Have fun. Be safe!"

I took my seat on the small charter plane and leaned back with a sigh, ready for a nice long nap. A moment later Jimmy plopped down beside me.

"Morning Sunshine," he teased in an unusually chipper tone for five in the morning. I growled in the back of my throat. "What's wrong?" He asked. I shook my head with a sigh.

"Nothing," I returned curtly, staring out the window.

"Really what's wrong?" He asked sensitively. I sighed.

"It's just," I was trying to figure out how to say this without making him out to be a bad guy. "I've been talking to Jannie, and he's a little...antsy. He just wants to play, and I think he should get the chance."

"Does this mean you're mad at me?" He asked, a little irritable.

"No, not at all," I said. "I just wish he got a chance..."

"And that I wasn't such a net hog," he continued.

"No!" I protested. "I know it's not your fault. I just think Herb should play him once and a while. He at least deserves a shot. Don't you think?" Jimmy rolled his eyes and settled back in his seat. This was going to be a loooonnngg... ride.


	13. Thirteen

I recognize the ellipse in the last chapter, but wasn't sure how to get into an altercation with Jannie. And I certainly wouldn't accuse anyone of flaming for pointing that out. I do realize that I did take a short cut explaining the dispute with the Faye/Jimmy dialogue.

As for the other discrepancy over the number of players...all the other guys were sick :-)

Thirteen

We checked into the hotel in Norway, and I was going to head up to my room for some shuteye and the boys were going to start practice. The front foyer was a mess, the manager was conspicuously absent without leave...probably pulling his hair out in the back room.

"Hey Coach," Jimmy called over to Herb. "My neck's really been bothering me; do you think I can sit this one out?" Herb looked at him strangely, but agreed,

"Alright, you should go find Doc." Then directed his attention to our other goalie. "Jannie, you're in there today...let's see what you can do." I looked at Jannie, and he just lit up. I turned back to Jimmy and he winked at me. I beamed at him and blew him a kiss that I think everyone else was too preoccupied to notice. He caught it in his hand.

So I started up to my room, feeling pretty content with myself, if I had only known.

At the game that afternoon, the boys played alright. Not great, more like mediocre. I couldn't blame them; they had just spent how many hours on a plane, and then had three hours of practice. But what really got Herb going was that the guys were barely paying attention to the game—they were checking out the Norwegian chicks in the stands!

At one point one of the guys on the Norwegian National team passed by the bench and said: "Maybe you Americans would play better if you left your bitches at home."

Before I even got to think, "How dare he!" Buzz sort-of became air-born and flew over the boards at the guy, and in the thirty seconds it took the officials to pull them apart, he had given the guy a black eye, and probably succeeded in breaking his nose. Of course, they tossed Buzzy out of the game, but we were all so proud of him. I listened in as Herb pulled him aside and said:

"I'm not going to condone fighting on the ice," he started. "But as far as picking your battles goes, that was a good choice...Next time, just wait 'til after the game." He sent Buzzy back into the lockers to change and I looked at Jimmy, sitting on the bench in his navy suite—complete with crazy tie, and he rolled his eyes.

"Sometimes I wonder," he sighed heavily.

Unfortunately, after that, the game basically went down the crapper. Buzz was fuming in the seat next to me, mumbling something, peering in the direction of the Norway bench, and the rest of the guys were checking out blonds in the stands...I don't know what they thought I was, but apparently the Norwegian chicks had something I didn't.

Anyways, the game ended in a tie. The boys got up, with the exception of Buzz and Jimmy, to shake hands with the other team, and then started off the ice as I started out of the box.

"What the...?" I heard Jimmy mumble from behind me, and turned around to see Herb having the guys line up. He started skating them, and they soon developed a pattern. Lecture, pant, again, whistle, skate... After a few sets Buzzy and Jimmy were looking at me questioningly. I shook my head, I didn't know what the hell he was doing, but Coach Patrick kept blowing that damned whistle.

"Should we get out there?" Buzzy asked me. I shook my head violently.

"Stay here and maybe he won't notice you're not out there," I told them both.

I had never seen Herb like this, and I didn't know what he was capable of, and I wasn't about to send my best friend and my boy friend to the slaughter.

Herb glared over to us at the bench and I took a defined step in front of Jimmy and Buzz glaring evilly back at him. Maybe I couldn't protect all the boys, but I could sure as hell protect what was mine.

And so they continued—lecture, pant, again, whistle, skate had worked its way into again, whistle, skate. Until finally Mark Johnson slammed his stick into the boards. I just about jumped out of my skin, as I'm sure several of the boys did as well, and in the wake of the sound of Johnson's stick hitting the boards we heard a determined voice call out:

"Mike Eruzione...Winthrop, Massachusetts."

"Who do you play for?" Herb prompted.

"I play for the United States of America!" Rizzo answered after a good deal of wheezing and sputtering.

"That's all gentlemen," Herb declared before walking off the rink. However, most of the boys had been stripped of that ability and just collapsed where they stood.

At that point I rushed out to find Herb in his temporary office, gathering some papers.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" I yelled at him, and he didn't even grace me with eye contact. I was fit to be tied. "You could have hurt one of these boys—Do you know who has to go through all the paperwork if you get sued? Me! That's who! Who do you think you are?" Was all I managed to get out coherently, before I became possessed and just started yelling nonsense at the top of my lungs. Herb didn't even look up at me as he headed down to the boys locker room.

"I'm not done with you," I called after him. "Don't you walk away from me, Herb! Herb! HERB! **_HERBERT!_**" He finally stopped and looked back at me, as if I had gone nuts...which I had, before entering the lockers.

"And if you play the same way again," he warned the boys. "We'll do that all over." Our next game was the following morning, and I think we won eleven to nothing.


End file.
